


In Stitches

by zhanae



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhanae/pseuds/zhanae
Summary: Sansa and Tyrion meet when Tyrion is preparing to film his great historical epic fantasy series at Winterfell.
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter One

Tyrion Lannister was nervous. More nervous than when he went to college at age 15. Definitely more nervous than the first time he had sex with his girlfriend Tasha. Even more than when he faced down his father and finally stood up for himself a few years ago.

He wandered onto the set of the great hall, scanning all the work his team had done to take a modernized room back one thousand years. Gone were the fine rugs, paneling on the walls and expensive furnishings. Rushes now covered the stone under his feet. Rushes, of all things! He had to give it up to the props department for that. Rough wooden trestle tables lined the hall, with benches and carved wooden tankards on top. The high table at the top of the hall was finer, a beautiful burled maple with a striking lord’s chair and chairs for the members of the family.

They were shooting the feast scene in the morning, and Tyrion mentally ran down the list of shots while looking at the detail sewn into the table runner and carved into the fine goblets on the high table. This was his first time as a showrunner, and he wanted tomorrow to be perfect.

For all that he’d been working on sets and in writers rooms for more than a decade, Tyrion felt like something of an imposter. He’d learned from the best, of course. First as Jaime’s assistant, then as a production assistant and finally as a writer, Tyrion had always soaked up everything he could about filmmaking. He’d graduated from film school at King’s Landing U and gotten a job almost immediately, but he’d been on sets way before then with Jaime. 

Tyrion sat in the lord’s chair, hidden in shadows, and thought about his brother. Jaime worried him. When he started taking acting seriously, going from small theaters to a stint on a soap and then breaking into TV in the role of a PI solving crimes in Lannisport, Jaime had seemed like he was on top of the world. A different woman on his arm every night and a burgeoning collection of fast sports cars. (Jaime didn’t care where he lived, as long as he had a fast car to take him places.) 

Lately, though, Tyrion felt like his brother was keeping something from him. Tyrion had always been able to read Jaime like a book – he wasn’t that complicated a person. But Tyrion had been so incredibly busy over the last few years, from convincing the author that he was the best to adapt this world to hiring, casting and making the thousands of decisions needed to bring this show to life. He felt the distance between himself and his family grow larger as time passed. 

Tyrion had already spent so much energy on show, If he believed in the seven, he’d pray to the gods that the it would be a smash. Maybe he’d finally stop suffering from imposter syndrome if the show did as well as they all hoped. And Jaime would be on set, the brothers working together for the first time in years. His beautiful, golden big brother was perfectly cast as the incestuous lord who played a pivotal role in the first episode. 

Now, the night before shooting, Tyrion just wanted to relax in the dim light of the great hall of Winterfell and breathe for a few minutes.

The production had been lucky to gain consent to film here. The property had been in the same family for untold generations, with some saying that parts of the main keep actually did go back before medieval times. Revamping and refurbishing over the years to modernize the buildings must have cost a fortune, he thought, no doubt resulting in the Stark family agreeing to rent the grounds for filming. 

Tyrion was just getting up, ready to go back to his hotel room, when he heard a murmur of voices on the other side of the hall. 

\---

“Joff, look at this. The stitching is incredible,” Sansa said, fingering an emblem on a cloak that had been tossed over a table at the back of the great hall. No one from the family was supposed to be here, but Sansa thought she’d get a peek at night before filming started. 

“Mmm hmm,” Joffrey said, obviously not paying attention to anything but her body as he grabbed her around the waist and kissed her neck. She gladly turned in his arms and returned the kiss, admitting to herself that only half the reason for coming here with Joff was to see the set. Her large family could be stifling sometimes, and she’d been dreaming about being with the son of her father’s business partner for a long time.

He moved down and started kissing her neck again, caressing her breast and maneuvering her backwards into a table, where he laid her down against the top and started kissing her again. She murmured appreciatively, moving her hands up and down his back as he again kissed her neck and moved down to her shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. She pulled his face back up to hers, kissing him hard and pulling his hands away from her shirt.

“Joffrey, we can’t,” she murmured. “Not here, and I’m not ready.”

“Sansa, please,” he replied, voice muffled as he kissed his way down again, pulling her bra to one side and capturing a hard nipple in his mouth. She arched against him, involuntarily moaning as he sucked and licked. 

“I don’t want my first time to be here,” she said, running her hands through his thick blonde hair. She and Joffrey had only been going out for a month, but he’d started pressuring her to sleep with him two weeks ago and hadn’t given up yet. She just wasn’t ready, and certainly didn’t want their first time to be on a table in the middle of the great hall. 

Sansa had fallen a little in love with Joffrey when they’d first met as kids 10 years ago. The Starks and the Baratheons had spent holidays together, thrown company picnics and often vacationed together during the summers. You’d think that her father and Robert would get tired of seeing each other all day at the company and then spending free time together as well. But the two men were more like brothers than partners, and so the families spent much time together.

Her brother Robb hated Joffrey, often talking their father into letting their cousin Jon Targaryen tag along so that Robb would have someone to do things with. But Sansa had always preferred to spend time with Joff, watching jealously as he’d had girlfriend after girlfriend over the past five years. Now Sansa had her chance, and she did want her first time to be with him. Just not tonight.

Joff had begun kissing her again, thrusting his hard length against her. Sansa thought she’d die with how good it felt. But after a few moments, he pulled back and looked into her eyes, his hand coming up to caress her face.

“You know, I think I love you Sans,” he said, peppering little kisses along her jaw. “I want to wait, I know you’re not ready, but how about I teach you how to give me a blow job instead.”

Sansa stiffened. If she wasn’t ready to have regular sex, she certainly wasn’t ready for oral sex either. But that wasn’t the issue, as she had distinctly heard someone clearing their throat next to them.

\---

Tyrion couldn’t believe it. His idiot nephew, on Tyrion’s set, trying to manipulate his way into a blow job from what looked like the oldest Stark girl. 

“Joff, gods damn it,” he said, “what the hell are you doing here?” 

The couple jumped off the table, tugging clothes back into place and looking around nervously. The Stark girl was blushing bright red, and Joffrey was running a hand through his blonde locks.

“Uncle! We were just …” Joffrey said.

“I know what you were just,” Tyrion said, not wanting to hear whatever excuse his revolting nephew would come up. “No one is supposed to be on this set,” he said, anger in his voice. Tyrion might have guessed that he’d see some of the Stark kids sneaking around, but not his nephew. 

“Mr. Lannister, it’s my fault,” Sansa said, “I wanted to see the set and talked Joffrey into coming down here.”

“Joffrey, please leave and don’t let me catch you back here without an invitation from either me or your Uncle Jaime. I’d like to discuss something with Miss Stark.”

Joffrey shot him a dirty look and walked towards the door at the end of the hall. Tyrion thought he saw Joff flip him off as he walked out, the little fucker.

Sansa Stark stood before him, twisting her hands together and still bright red from embarrassment. “Mr. Lannister,” she asked hesitantly, “Please don’t tell my parents that I snuck down here with Joffrey.”

He considered a moment. He didn’t approve of most things his nephew did; Joff had been a troublemaker his entire life, but his sister coddled the boy like he was an angel. And he was hardly be the first to try talking some girl into sex. Most teenage boys tried that at one time or another. Hell, he certainly had. 

“Miss Stark. Sansa, isn’t it?” he asked. “Sansa, I would tell you that my nephew isn’t the best sort of kid to be hanging around with, but I doubt my warning would make a difference to you. Why were you down here in the first place? I know your family was specifically asked to keep off the set unless invited.”

She looked down at her hands, some of the flush receding from her cheeks. She looked him in the eye and said earnestly, “I was hoping that no one would be about and that I could take a peek at the tapestries and the costumes. I love to embroider and sew, and I thought about going to school in Essos to learn how to become a costume designer. I’ll be a senior next year.”

Tyrion considered that for a moment, remembering how eager he had been to learn everything about filmmaking and tv when he was her age. He thought that he might have done the same in her position. He beckoned her to follow him back up to the high table at the other end of the room.

“Sit down,” he said, once more taking the lord’s chair. She sat beside him, and he found her impossibly fresh-faced, with beautiful silky, red hair. Tyrion could see why she appealed to his nephew, but dismissed the thought. No matter his lack of height, Tyrion had no shortage of female companionship. He certainly didn’t need to be noticing how pretty a teenager was. 

“Tell me about yourself. Do you just sew for fun, or have you done some costuming before?” he asked.

“I started sewing when I was five, but I’ve taken classes and recently interned at Winterfell Theatre, helping the costume designer for “The Dance of Dragons,” she said. “I didn’t get to do much sewing, but I did create some mood boards that ended up being used, as well as research, of course.”

“Interesting,” Tyrion said. “It’s unusual for someone your age to be interested in the theater and be talented enough to go beyond your local school productions.”

“I’ve read about you,” Sansa said, again looking at her hands and blushing faintly. “I know you were on film sets when you were younger than me.” 

“Well, I had an in,” he said, self-deprecatingly. “Running errands for my brother certainly wasn’t an impressive position.”

“But you went to film school at 15, didn’t you?” she asked.

Someone had done her homework. Tyrion was starting to think she would have contrived to meet him even if he hadn’t caught her with Joff. Clever girl.

“What are you doing this summer” he asked. “Would you like to interview with our head costume designer to see if we might have room for an intern? It would be an unpaid position, but you’d gain a lot of experience before you head off to school.”

Sansa perked up at that, eyes going wide. “Claire Farnsworth is your head designer, isn’t she? Her work is extraordinary, and I’d love to have the chance to meet her!”

Tyrion smiled. She was so cute, and clearly would be going places in the future. “My assistant is Podrick Payne. Come down to the set tomorrow and ask for him. Bring your resume, and I’ll have him set up an appointment with you and Claire.”

She bounced a little in her chair, her sparkling blue eyes and wide smile showing her excitement. 

“Thank you, Mr. Lannister! I’m so excited,” she said. “I promise that if Claire hires me I’ll do my best for you.”

“Call me Tyrion,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa was carefully hemming a dress when the most beautiful man she’d ever seen walked into the costuming room. She’d watched most of his movies, and Jaime Lannister was striking on screen. But in person, he was otherworldly. Sansa tried, but couldn’t stop staring as he spoke with the dressers and costumers. He had this effect on everyone, each time he walked into the room.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as his costume for the day was found, and he was ushered into the back to change. Jeyne, one of the costuming assistants who’d been especially nice to Sansa, sat down and held her hands out.

“Sansa, I’m shaking. I’m actually shaking,” she said. “Every time I see him, it’s like I have an out-of-body experience. He’s so incredible.”

Sansa laughed. “I feel that way every time I’ve been on set. I can’t believe this is really my life.” She turned her attention back to the pile of fabric on her table, making careful stitches to the red silk. She’d been on set for a week and went home each day exhausted but happy. She’d had to beg her parents to let her do this internship, and her father Ned had talked with Claire extensively to make sure that having a seventeen-year-old on set wouldn’t be a problem. In the end, it had taken a meeting with Tyrion, and his personal assurance that everyone would look out for her, before Ned relented and let her take the job.

Of course, she was grounded for sneaking onto the set in the first place, but at least Tyrion hadn’t mentioned a word about Joffrey. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jeyne asked. “I haven’t had time to really explore Wintertown yet. Is there anything cool to do?”

“I’m still grounded,” Sansa answered. “Joffrey’s pissed about it.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re dating Joffrey Baratheon and hadn’t met the Lannisters,” Jeyne said. It had been good to talk to the older girl about Joff and get some perspective on what happened in the great hall that night. Jeyne backed her up and said to take sex at her own pace and not to worry about what Joff wanted.

“Well, Joff’s mom is the Lannister’s step-sister. It’s not like my family has spent time with her brothers. We’ve just been with the Baratheons. Our fathers are old friends,” Sansa said. “You should go to the Wintertown Brewery. My parents take us sometimes, and they’ve got really good food. One of my brothers is bartending there. He could probably get you a good table.”

“How many brothers do you have again, and which ones are the cutest?” Jeyne asked, laughing. “I’ve been here a month and have been buried in work. I need to do some catching up on my social life.”

“My two oldest brothers are about your age,” Sansa said. “Jon and Robb. Jon’s the one that’s bartending, but he’s got a girlfriend back at school.” 

“Well, maybe I’ll corral Beth into going with me. Even if he’s taken, there’s bound to be some single Northerners about. That sexy accent those boys have gets me every time,” Jeyne said.

“Tell him you know me,” Sansa said. “He’ll look after you.”

Jaime Lannister came back into the room, wearing a long, tan leather jacket, tan breeches tucked into high boots, and looking like a snack. He looked at her for a moment and frowned, before leaving. 

“Are your parents letting you go with us to King’s Landing next month?” Jeyne asked. 

“No,” Sansa said, looking down that her stitches. “I’m starting school then, and my father wouldn’t have let me go by myself anyway. Maybe next year, if season two gets picked up. I asked Claire already, I’ll just have to convince my parents.”

\---

Jaime made his way towards today’s set, the banquet scene. Tyrion was at the craft services table getting coffee, and Jaime walked over to join him.

“You know, there’s an actual child working in the costume department,” he said, frowning. “What’s going on there?”

Tyrion took a sip of his drink and grinned. “She’s Ned Stark’s oldest girl, Sansa. Wants to go into costuming when she goes to University, so I’m letting her shadow Claire and her crew.”

“Generous of you,” Jaime said. “But she looks like she’s about 15.”

“Seventeen, actually,” Tyrion said. “She’s a sweet kid. I figured I’d give her a break. Everybody’s been looking out for her, and one of her brothers picks her up at the end of every day. It’s been fine.”

Tyrion looked at Jaime carefully. His brother still wasn’t acting like himself, and Tyrion had no idea why. He’d been moody and snappish. Professional on set, of course; Jaime was a pro. But off set, he’d kept to himself, only leaving the hotel when Tyrion insisted they take a break and go out for dinner. There weren’t a lot of fine dining choices there in the Southern style, but Tyrion had gotten used to Northern food and kind of liked it – heavy on the meat and root vegetables, accompanied by some of the best craft brews he’d ever had. 

He’d tried to get Jaime to open up but his brother could be monumentally stubborn when he put his mind to it. Of course, all the Lannisters were stubborn, himself included. But Jaime had perfected it to an art form. 

“How’s the sword fighting going?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“Blisters on top of blisters,” Jaime said,” but I’m getting the hang of it. If we get picked up for a second season, I’m going to have to do something during our time off to keep these calluses. I don’t want to go through the pain of this again.” 

Season two. He’d mapped out all seven seasons, of course, when he pitched the show to the network. And he thought they had a good shot at getting renewed, but this network rarely renewed a series before airing the first season. 

Tyrion caught the eye of one of the extras that he’d been flirting with and grinned, which made Jaime start frowning again. She was a gorgeous redhead, with an unstoppable body. He hadn’t managed to work his magic yet, but she seemed more than willing to consider it. 

“Seriously, Tyrion? You can’t fuck your way through the extras every time you get on set.”

“Sure I can. It’s not like either of us is looking for anything serious. They just wanted to take spin on the Tyrion Lannister experience,” he said, laughing. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Jaime sighed and walked away towards his scene partner. Tyrion was really going to have to discover what was wrong. He missed his laughing, teasing brother and this moody shit was getting old. 

The scene was just getting ready to start when he saw a flash of red hair again. This time it was Sansa Stark, picking her way through the crowd to stand next to him.

“Mr. Lannister, can I ask you something?” she said.

“Tyrion, Sansa. Call me Tyrion.”

“Tyrion,” she said, smiling. “Would you mind if I watched some of the scenes this week? Claire said it’s a good idea to learn how costumes look on the actor as they are going through a scene. She said that I could shadow one of the wardrobe assistants this week.”

“Sure,” he said. “Just look for me whenever she lets you come on set, and I’ll make sure you get a good look at what’s going on.”

“Thank you so much! You’re being so kind to me, and I really appreciate it.”

“Just paying it forward,” Tyrion said. “I was on set with my brother when I was younger than you, and it was invaluable experience. My advice is just to soak up everything you can, speak with everyone you can when they aren’t working. Just be sure you’re aware of your surroundings and stay off to the side. You’re going to be able to learn a lot about a film set just from observing.”

Sansa smiled and happily took the seat next to him. She really was a cute kid, Tyrion thought. Too bad she wasn’t about 10 years older.


End file.
